A Striking Similarity.

It exists between these images, yes?

"Come on, Watson, the game's afoot! This is no time to be romantically entangled!"

"Peter... As much as I'd love to stand here and not watch you and your wife make out, isn't there a mortgage fraud case we could slog through or something?"

*laughing*

Delerium.

My mind is not functioning properly.

Yes, yes, I know what you're asking. "Really? Does it ever?"

As a matter of fact, it does function properly on occasion. Just not necessarily in a normal fasion. Facion. Fasoin. Fascion. Fashion. Thank you. Alright. That thing. Fashion. See, case in point.

The English language is so dang inconsistent! I mean, really! In Spanish, if you know what sounds the letters make, you can sound out any word because it's always the same! Grrr... Stupid english.

But anyway. I've been up since five and I went to bed last night a little after twelve. Good times. (But 27 got even less sleep!)

I went to the Homecoming football game.

The beginning, anyway.

I almost fell off the bleachers, and everyone around me was taller. Even the people who were standing (we were all standing) on the bleachers ahead, several inches below. So I was in a weird little box. It was odd. I couldn't really see. But I sort of understand football, so that's good! And we revisited the site of my... accident... And it was incredibly loud at the game. Incredibly. They handed out these weirdie noisemaker thingies and everyone was screaming and cheering and I honestly couldn't even hear myself think. If I was thinking in the first place. My head, predictably, started to protest quite strongly. And luckily 27 is better at decision making and so we went to her house to watch Ocean's Twelve.



Yeah! George Clooney and Matt Damon and Brad Pitt in his awesome younger days!

But sad day, we didn't actually end up watching it.

It was still fun though. Playing at 27's house late at night is mashed potatoes!

Very, very entertaining. And they fed me good food, which is also quite a plus. Good food is good. Very good.

Anyhow, we entertained ourselves for quite some time and then I came home, which is where I am now. In my wonderful, swively chair.

Before I sat in my wonderful swively chair, though, I had to preform the customary "my siblings are having sleepovers with their friends, I must go bother them!" routine. The older two were lucky enough to be first. My sister highly objected to my presence and she opened a pen to prove it. The ink spurted all over me and my arms are now blue.

Another example of delirium: When you look down at blue stuff smeared all over your arms and have forgotten why you were going to wash it off, so you lick it to test.

My tongue is also blue. And it won't come off.

Back to home.

The younger two were next. I spoke to them for a moment and then went to half-heartedly attempt to remove the blue again. On my way back, I was informed by a higher power that the children needed to lower their volume. The older girls consented. The younger girls... Were less than thrilled.

Wiiide awake there.

"PLEASE don't make us be quiet!"

"I can't possibly sleep, how could I sleep?"

"Can't we go play upstairs or something?"

"PLEAAASE?"

So, I did what any rational being would do. I sat on the foot of their bed and made up a story.

What a wonderful story it was.

There was a kid named Joshua. Joshua Perkins. He was eleven (gotta play to the audience you have) with black hair and blue eyes and palish skin. He lived in Iowa. He lived on a farm in Iowa, so he had to get up early to wait for the bus. One morning, he got up like he always did, but this morning was special. It was the first morning of sixth grade. He stood by the bus stop and waited, until a pair of headlights came toward him...
Long story short, it turns out to be a freakin' awesome alien ship full of really small aliens with huge, pointy ears and white hair called the Jang. They need his help. So he is pressed into helping them, 'cause they're the last of their kind that hasn't been destroyed by the evil alien Zarr. Joshua goes with them to the planet and they exploit weaknesses to get rid of all the enemy ships except Zarr's. Somehow, Joshua sneaks on board and the guards can't see him. He confronts Zarr and accidentally bumps a button that calls up the portal to send Zarr and his ship back to their dimension.
Joshua barely gets away in time to see them be sent through.
The Jang thank him and take him home, where he arrives somehow just in time for the bus.

Of course, the whole thing was told in a very choppy, long-winded form like the beginning paragraph. It was about a half hour long and they were fast asleep by the time it was over. But I finished it anyway. It was strange. But I was really out of it, so I just kept going even though it was cliché and ... special. So that was interesting.

And then I went into my room and opened my computer and saw new pictures of Matt Bomer on his website!

That's not one of the new ones, but it's super nice anyway. The new ones are amaazing!

...but that's a story for another day.

I think I'd better get some sleep, or at least breathe deeply. Good night.

Ha.

I saw this picture and all I can think is...

*singsong* Somebody's in trouble...

I think this is them filming the Season Two finale. I am so excited for that, you don't even know.

So. Excited.

Discombobulated.

Life is full of confusion for... uhm.... people like me.

For instance, LA is not, in fact, in Florida, as I found out sometime last year. Good times there. Ah, how the children laughed with me in celebration of my discovery.

Another common misconception is that "making up" is what you do when you fight with a friend (it was a pretend fight, granted). However, when you use this phrase, your friend may, in fact, whack you and say that's gross. Because, apparently, "making up" is what couples do. Another revelation!

Also, it is not a good idea to tell people outside of your close circle of friends that you named the pole you eat next to (Jaques) or the filing cabinet in your Sunday School room (George). They will then proceed to flatter you by imitation, skipping gleefully around the nearest pole and proclaiming their love for it. Such lovely days.

Today, I learned something new. DIY is not meant to be said "dee." It actually stands for something. Is that not completely insane? In any case, it apparently means "do it yourself." Why they do not just say that, I will never know.

And I learned that discombobulated is actually a real word. I thought Bolt made it up! But no, it means confused. Which is me.

On a completely unrelated note (maybe one day we'll have a related one), January is altogether too long away.

What happens in January, you ask?

Well, there's the customary New Years' drinking party, if you're into that sort of thing and have high alcohol tolerance. Or perhaps the wonderfully irritating slush that accumulates on the side of the road. Or even the joy of scraping off your car windows each and every glorious morning.

While all of these are simply delightful, that's not what I'm excited for.

January is when White Collar comes back.

White Collar is amazing.

That is all.

Magic.

Does it exist?

Probably not.

Can we pretend?

Yup!

However, magic is not what we speak of today. We speak of science.

This science is likely not entirely realistic, but it is very cool anyway.

I am referring to a certain television series revolving around a magi- no, no a scientific guy known as "the Doctor."



He's pretty amazing! He travels around through time and space in his TARDIS.



...it's a lot bigger on the inside. Fun fact about the Doctor, he can regenerate into new forms if he dies. His two most recent forms were played by Christopher Eccleston and David Tennant.



That's Christopher Eccleston. He was really great as the Doctor, I thought, and I was super sad when he died. I do, however, also like David Tennant as the Doctor.



It's still the same guy, with the same memories, but a different appearance and slightly different personalities. This Doctor seems to be really sweet. I like him, too.

One thing they both have in common is their companion, Rose Tyler (played by Billie Piper).



I wasn't immediately sure if I liked her or not, but now I really do. She's cute.

So, this series is all in all pretty cool. It's very inventive and a little out there, but certainly never boring. I'm liking it.

On an entirely unrelated subject, I have discovered that if you add eggs into a brownie batch at the very end, it does not completely ruin it! This is a good thing, as chocolate is an important part of the world.

Very important. Chocolate is extremely wonderful.

Magical, really.

Glee.

No, not the tv-show.

Yesterday I got halfway to thirty. As a consolation prize, I received a Chekov action figure.

This is Chekov, Pavel Andreievich. He is "sewenteen" and adorable.



This is the action figure. Or a picture of someone else's, at least. Not a perfect likeness, but good enough.



It brings me great joy.

Ramblings.

It has been a while since I have visited the hypothetical plane of existence. Hello. I have many topics on which I want to touch tonight. The first is one I didn't expect to be addressing.

Charlie St. Cloud.



It was actually a surprisingly good movie. The plot was good, I thought, and it kept me interested. He was adorable, devoted, and cute. Adorable and cute do cover two different aspects, by the way. Adorable is more personality, general likability, cute is physically "cute." He fit both. I liked the movie, it was fun to watch with my dear friend Watson.

Secondly, White Collar. Again.



This is one topic I never tire of. Ever. The new episode tomorrow looks highly promising; Neal impersonates an assassin, which definitely is not him. He's nice. So far this season has been good, but they have this sort of air of invincibility built up that is getting a tad monotonous. Also, Neal needs a real grieving moment. Not sobbing or breaking stuff, but just... we need to see how he's feeling inside; the cracks in the facade are there, we see glimpses occasionally, but the facade needs to drop completely. Just for a moment.

Thirdly, sort of related to White Collar, but partially just related to my ever-decreasing amount of sanity.

I hallucinate occasionally. Well, more than occasionally. But it's nothing concerning, no alien bugs crawling on car windshields, and no pink elephants. But the other day it was very, very odd, and much more vivid than it typically is. I'm attributing it to tiredness, an overactive (and unstable) mental state, and chocolate. I was just about to go to sleep, when I saw this strange scene play out in front of me. It was short and very detailed.

I'm concerned for my mind.

Ah. Fourthly. Artemis Fowl.

I had NO IDEA that the seventh book came out already. It has not been very long. I. need. to read it.

It is called Artemis Fowl and the Atlantis Complex.




The second picture is the "New" type of cover art. The first is the traditional variety. I much prefer the first, but sadly, they don't have that at my local friendly book store. This saddens me greatly. I am, however, extremely excited to read it. It sounds very exciting, and I love Artemis Fowl. I need to add him to Team Amazing, I think. I must consult Watson.

Lastly, and this is shorter, I must speak on the topic of mutual. I have mutual tomorrow at seven (which, as always, conflicts with WCN, but that is alright). It promises to be very fun, but also holds possibilities of... interesting moments. It could go either way, and we will just have to see. I thank you, hypothetical plane of existence, for hosting my ramblings.